Poor Baby
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Shield Slash. Roman/Seth/Dean. Seth takes a hard hit in their match on Monday Night RAW and ends up with a concussion. This, combined with his 101.2 fever, will result in chaos. Roman is not thrilled with the results. Full list of warnings inside. Please Review!


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Threesome, BDSM Overtones, Master/Master/sub, Sick!Seth, Pain!Kink, etc.

* * *

"That _hurt_, motherfucker!" Seth's foot struck out and hit the trainer in the knee, but it did little to halt the older man's search for broken ribs. Gently, he touched another bruise. Pain swelled inside of him and for a moment, he saw black.

"I don't think that any of your ribs are broken, Mr. Rollins. You do, however, have a minor concussion." Seth turned away and sneezed loudly. His entire body was racked with the force of it. "And you have a fever of 101.2."

"What the fuck? I'm not sick." As if to prove his point, he sneezed again. "Hay fever, that's all." In the middle of winter? "Ah, shit." He leaned over for a tissue and blew his nose. Suddenly, he felt exhausted.

"I would recommend that you take two weeks off. Get rid of the concussion and your 'hay fever'." The trainer smiled, ignoring Seth's deadly glare. "I'll leave you to that, then."

When the trainer's back was turned, Seth flipped him the bird. Two weeks off? What the fuck was he supposed to do, lie on the couch all day and watch reruns of _General Hospital_? Like hell he would! He would much rather be out there with Dean and Roman. And if that ended in a concussion nine times out of ten, he didn't really care. Concussions were a force of nature he didn't really want to mess with. A fever of 101.2, however? _That_ he could handle.

He made to slide off of the table, but even that small movement caused stars to dance behind his eyes. He squeezed them closed and reached out for the nearest flat surface, which happened to be the nearby table. It took him whatever was left from that match with Ryback to haul himself to his feet. Once he was there, he instantly regretted such a hasty decision. The room swam before his wet eyes and before he knew it, he was down on the floor.

Almost instantly, he was lifted into the air and his head rested against the hard muscle of Roman's chest. "What the fuck were you thinking, Seth? You could have killed yourself!"

"Sorry, sir." Even with his brain clouded by the concussion, he still remembered to always address Dean as 'sir'.

"You're damn right you're sorry." Dean glared at the smaller man. "You have a concussion and a serious fever. We're taking you back to the hotel room and putting your ass to _bed_."

"But, sir -," Seth never liked to be fussed over like a baby.

"That's an _order_, Seth." Seth had also never been one to defy a direct order.

And as they walked out of the room, Seth tucked safely in Roman's arms, the ex-football player muttered, "And if you puke on me, your ass is grass."

* * *

**Part One: Bed Rest**

Much as he had feared, by the third day at home, Dean had allowed him to watch television while he and Roman went to the store. Normally, Seth would have turned him down. When they had first arrived at their one-bedroom apartment, Dean had tried to watch the nighttime news and Seth had almost blown chunks at the way the sound bounced around inside his head. But he felt cut-off from the outside world, so what could it hurt?

He turned the television on and waited for it to warm up. When they had first moved in, none of them had had the money to afford a better television. Now that they did, they couldn't find the time to buy one. It seemed like such a waste to only be home so many days out of the year to enjoy a seven-hundred dollar television. While he waited for it to warm up, he leaned over and reached for a tissue. He blew his nose and tossed the tissue in the trashcan.

The television was set for the Soap Opera Network. Seth reached for the remote and tried to change the channel to some mindless cartoons, only to find that the numbers he was pressing wouldn't even show up on the screen. Their television, as old and shitty as it was, would occasionally freeze up like this. But it was rare that it was on the _Soap Opera Network_. As the credits rolled, the coming attractions called for _General Hospital_ to come on next.

"Shit." Seth fell back against the pillows, careful not to hit his head on the headboard. Too tired to turn the television back off, he waited for the show to come on…

* * *

Dean and Roman returned home later to find Seth buried beneath a stack of tissues, sobbing his little heart out as Reese died in Sonny's arms. "Why? She was… so beautiful…"

"What happened in here?" Dean smirked as he looked at their submissive. "It looks like Mt. Tissue had an eruption. Seriously, Seth, the trashcan is like, two inches away from the bed."

Seth glared at them. "I know that." He said. His voice lost some of its venom as he realized he was so stuffed up, he couldn't speak properly. He turned back to the television. "Carly! No, don't do it! Think about Michael!"

"I see that you like the show." Dean smiled darkly. He and Roman shared a look.

Seth frowned. "Did _you_ have something to do with this?"

Dean turned to Roman, who shrugged. "He preset the channel and took the batteries out of the remote before you woke up. I can see that you didn't mind too terribly, though."

"Are you kidding? This emotional rollercoaster is _exhausting_! I need a nap and I've been in bed all day!" Seth exclaimed sarcastically. Slowly, he started to throw the tissues into the trashcan.

"I think that we can handle that. Roman, would you make Seth some tea?" And suddenly, the image of Roman in the kitchen, decked out in an apron and hot pads, danced into his mind. He broke down into peals of laughter.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "And the thermometer?"

Dean nodded. "And the thermometer."

Seth closed his eyes and listened as Roman's footsteps fell away. Dean walked over and turned off the television just as the other survivors discovered that Reese was pregnant. He turned around, grabbed a water bottle from one of the Wal-Mart bags, and tossed it at Seth. It bounced off of the smaller man's chest and rolled on the bed lazily. Seth cracked an eye open, rubbing his wounded chest with a frown. And then he started to laugh again.

_The poor idiot's gone stir crazy,_ Dean thought fondly. He made his way over to the bed and slid in behind the two-toned wrestler. Seth shifted slightly, allowing him a small sliver of the bed. Roman returned a moment later, sliding the coffee mug onto the bedside table and putting the thermometer under Seth's tongue. He pressed the small button and Seth crossed his eyes trying to look at the little numbers on the screen.

It beeped again at 99.7. A little fever, but it had come down significantly from where it had been earlier that day. Roman took the thermometer out of Seth's mouth, cleaned it off, and set it on the bedside table. He laughed again, imagining Roman in an apron, heels, and a pretty little dress, with hot pads on his hands. Roman slid into bed on the other side of their youngest lover, shooting him a wary look.

"Dean?" He grumbled.

"What?" Dean asked, obviously half-asleep.

"Do we have any Nyquil?" Roman asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Dean, now curious, propped himself up on his elbow. "Why?"

"So we can knock his ass _out_."

* * *

**Part Two: Bondage Fever**

On the tenth day, Seth awoke in the middle of a cocoon of bodies. He could barely remember the night before, but judging by his naked state (and the less-than-clothed state of his two lovers) and semi-hard cock, he knew that it had to be hot. Seth rolled over, his head resting on Roman's chest. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of the man's chest. It was like a lullaby, the way it soothed him.

Roman's arm shifted and the man abruptly rolled onto his back. Seth followed suit, landing flat on top of the older man. He snuggled down, making himself comfortable on Roman's equally naked body. The man didn't even flinch. He slept like a rock and he was a bitch to wake up, but Seth was convinced that there was nothing hotter than a half-awake, heavily aroused Roman Reigns. Except, maybe, a heavily drunk, heavily aroused Dean Ambrose…

Seth leaned down, laving his tongue over Roman's bare chest. If he had his way (and he _always_ had his way) he would have both of his men inside of him before the day was out. His hands stroked over Roman's muscles, trailing down to his hip bones, memorizing every delectable inch. And then, with a smirk, he slid his tongue down to the base of Roman's cock. Hesitating only a moment, he deep-throated Roman's cock the first time down.

Roman's dark eyes flashed. "Seth, what the fuck are you -," and then his entire sentence broke down into a red-hot moan as his nails raked across Seth's scalp, forcing him to take him in further.

Seth pulled back, smirking evilly. "Good morning to you too, Roman." Leaning down, he stroked his tongue over the slit. Pre-cum oozed over his tongue as he drank it down.

"You're supposed to be sleeping. You have a fever, you know." Roman hissed. It was true. Of all of his flu-symptoms, the fever had been the most stubborn. It had come and gone several times over the last ten days.

"I checked already." Seth smiled. He teased one hard nub into a dusky peak, watching the way Roman's pupils dilated with lust. "I'm down to 98.7."

Roman frowned, but there was no real malice behind it. "You know that I don't like to be woken up." He tried one last time. It didn't work, but he didn't seem to mind that too terribly.

"Oh, I think you'll live just this one time." Seth's evil smirk returned as he made to take Roman back into his mouth, but before he could do so, he was flipped onto his back with his hands above his head.

"You think that I'm going to let you off the hook that easily?" Roman asked, before he took his belt from where it had landed on the floor the previous night and slid it around Seth's wrists, attaching him to the headboard.

The belt was tight, but not nearly enough to cut off the circulation. It was just enough to remind him that he wasn't going _anywhere_ anytime soon. And he liked that. But what threw him into ecstasy was when Roman took his blunt nails and scratched them down the front of his chest, eliciting little beads of crimson blood. His eyes rolled back and he bucked his hips, unable to control himself. Roman held him down easily as he soothed the wounds with his tongue.

Dean, awakened by all of the commotion, swung his head between the two men drunkenly. The party that he had been to the night before had gotten way out of hand. He wasn't quite sure what had happened after the third drink, because the party after that was a blur, but he _did_ remember the incredibly hot sex that had come afterword. And really, what else mattered?

"What did he do this time?" Dean asked, noticing that Seth was tied to the headboard and receiving Roman's favored punishment: scratching. It didn't hurt too badly (Seth loved the pain anyhow), but it got the message across.

"He decided to take it upon himself to check his fever, decide that he was okay, and then give me a blowjob." Dean looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a third head. Why would he punish him for that. "While I was asleep."

Dean 'tsked'. "Naughty, Naughty, Sethie. I tried to help you out there, but I guess you really do deserve your punishment after all." He leaned over and whispered something into Roman's ear.

"What was that?" Seth asked, suddenly growing worried.

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Dean smiled, but it did little to comfort Seth. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. We've got this covered."

Roman continued to rake his nails down Seth's chest. Little beads of blood bubbled to the surface, but he would always clean them away. Meanwhile, Dean slid off of the bed and retrieved the lube. When he returned, he had already wet three fingers. Roman grabbed the leg nearest to him and spread it a bit more so that Dean could have better access to Seth's pucker. All at once, he shoved his fingers inside of him.

"Fuck!" Seth screamed, throwing his head back. Roman took the opportunity to rake his nails down his milky neck.

"I believe that that is what we're about to do, Sethie." Dean purred, slowly working Seth open.

All of a sudden, Dean tossed the bottle of lube to Roman, who had stopped drawing blood from Seth. He had already slicked himself and he, with a little assistance from Roman, slid underneath of Seth and thrust into the younger man's tight heat. Seth moaned, with morphed into a choked off scream as Roman, with no extra preparation, slid in beside him. The dry heat was almost unbearable, and he loved every minute of it.

Quickly, they found their rhythm. In and out, one by one, he was _always_ full. When Roman would retract so that only the head of his cock remained, Dean would thrust in and his cock would slam into Seth's prostate. Inch by painful inch, he felt himself drawn closer to orgasm. And then, Roman took it upon himself to tear his nails forcefully across Seth's thigh. This time, long strings of blood coated his milky skin. Seth _loved_ it.

He ran his fingers over the wounds, before he made another one, this one not quite so deep. And that was it. With no stimulation to his cock whatsoever, Seth came. He arched his back, his channel spasming around the two cocks buried deep inside of him. Thick ropes of white cum splattered on Roman's chest and Seth's nether regions. The tightening around them was too much to handle and soon after, the two dominates came as well, filling Seth to the brink.

Roman pulled out first, followed by Dean. Using a wet washcloth, Roman cleaned off Seth's bloody, used body. "Did you learn your lesson, Seth?"

"Yeah." Seth nodded as Dean undid the belt from around his wrists.

"And what was that?" Dean asked.

"I need to wake the two of you up more often!"

* * *

**Part Three: The Relapse**

Not even twenty-four hours after their 'session', Seth was flat on his ass, almost unconscious from his delirium. First he was hot and had Dean take all of the blankets off of the bed. Then he was cold and had Roman bring all of them in. He had gone through a box of tissues in the span of three hours and was currently halfway through his second one. Reruns of _General Hospital_ constantly played on the television.

Roman read off the little numbers on the thermometer. "I hope you're happy, kid. You have a fever of 102.6."

Seth turned to him, and that time-tested image of Roman in a dress and high heels came back to haunt him. He broke down into fits of laughter again. Roman rolled his eyes, before he started to walk away. "Where are you going?"

Roman didn't even turn back to face him. "To get the Nyquil."


End file.
